


not done yet

by aohatsu



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies)
Genre: F/M, Light BDSM
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-20
Updated: 2020-07-20
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:48:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25407169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aohatsu/pseuds/aohatsu
Summary: It was just him, and everything he wanted from her. And everything she could get from him.
Relationships: Jean Grey/Scott Summers
Comments: 7
Kudos: 27
Collections: Obedience and Trust Flash Exchange





	not done yet

**Author's Note:**

  * For [VampirePaladin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/VampirePaladin/gifts).



Sometimes, she wishes Scott could read her mind the way she can read his.

She wishes he knew what he looked like, all spread out on the bed, bound by the soft rope she'd gently wrapped around his wrists, his ankles, all from four feet away, never letting him feel the touch of her skin on his.

He was lovely. 

Truthfully, it wasn't the sight of it that had her wet between her thighs already. No, it was the soft catch of breath in Scott's throat when she tightened the ropes, the burn of the stretch in his limbs, and then, when she tightened them again, the short gasp, the way the stretch pulled and burned and tugged on muscles he wasn't used to using like this.

She could read the pain in his mind, the burn.

The wanton desire he tried so desperately not to show, even though his cock was fully hard, leaking a dark spot of arousal through his underwear where the head pressed against the fabric.

God, she wanted him.

He wanted pain.

He wanted the intensity of it; the way it took him out of his head and away from the stress of reality. He wanted the throbbing burn and the sharp ache of being on the cusp of impossibility as she pushes him a little more, a little farther than he'd thought he could even in his own head, and though he wouldn't admit it out loud, he desperately wanted the soft touch of her fingers soothing the pain away when they were done.

It wasn't tying him up that made her wet, it wasn't the thought of the bright, red marks left on his skin the next day that made her breath quicken.

It was just him, and everything he wanted from her. And everything she could get from him.

"You want something, Scott?" she asks, her voice loud in the quiet of their room. She approaches the bed slowly, trailing her fingers along the mattress. He can feel her closeness, but not her actual touch. Not yet.

He pulls on the ropes and mumbles.

"You'll have to speak up. I can't hear you."

It's true. She can read his wants, his desires, but his mind is being pulled in so many directions at once that it can be hard to pinpoint. Her hands? The whip? The cage?

Besides, she wants him to say it.

"Hurt me," he mumbles again, louder this time. His stomach muscles are tense. "Anything. Just make it hurt."

She hardly pauses before she says, "No. You haven't done anything to earn it."

She feels the despair in his head, but she can hear the resounding _what can I do, anything anything anything, please, I'll earn it, let me earn it,_ in his head.

She leaves her bra on for the moment but drops her underwear to the floor. Her thighs are already sticky from how much she wants him, from how much he wants this. She climbs onto the bed and over his chest. 

He swallows at the feel of her sitting on top of him, and she can hear his thoughts when he feels the wet, sticky fluid smearing across the tense muscles of his chest and she moves up higher, higher, higher until her cunt is hovering, perfectly positioned, over his mouth.

She closes her eyes, his hot breath skating over the folds between her thighs. Already, her legs begin to tremble. 

"This is how you earn it, Scott," she says, and without any additional warning, she relaxes her tensed thighs and lowers until she's shoving herself into his mouth, giving him only enough space to breathe.

He opens his mouth like a man starving of thirst, finally presented with a puddle of water. He licks up into her, tasting her and fucking her with his tongue. She can hear him curse in his head when he tries to lift his hands and bury his fingers against her thighs, dragging her closer, and his attempt is thwarted by the ropes pinning his wrists flat.

She throws her head back and softly groans.

She clenches her thighs tighter around his head. His heartbeat picks up the pace, the difficulty to breathe turning him on even more.

His tongue finds her clit, slip-sliding against it and driving her crazy. She fists his hair and grabs at the headboard with her other hand, just trying to keep herself grounded. 

He thinks, _yes yes yes, harder_ , in his head, and she rocks her cunt against his mouth, needing the pressure of his mouth sucking her clit hard whether he'll be able to breathe or not.

She comes on his face, his tongue fucking up into her savagely, desperately. She lifts off, her thighs trembling. There's sticky fluid all over his face, and slides a finger through it.

He's vibrating, wants whatever is coming next.

"You made a mess," she says, and he swallows as if afraid, as if nervous. 

He's imagining the punishments he might get.

He's begging her, _please, Jean, please_.

She slips to the side, still sitting on the bed. 

His cock is twitching uncontrollably in his underwear, and she gently pulls the cloth down to reveal him to the room. 

She takes him in her hand, listens to him nearly sob. She flicks the head with a pointed nail and he jerks forward, a surprised cry ripping through his throat. She does it again, and again, and again, until he's thrumming, panting. 

It isn't enough for him, but that's more than enough. 

She slaps his cock with her bare palm, smacking it into the pale expanse of his belly. Pre-come flicks off the tip and he cries out. She runs a hand up his length gently, and his entire body shakes beneath hers.

She lets go. 

"Beg," she orders. "Beg for me out loud."

"I--Jean, please," he pleads. "Fuck me. Suck me off. _Hit me_."

She smiles. He can't see it through his blindfold; he doesn't need to know what she's doing. She wishes he could see what she loves about him sometimes, but this--this she wants to be a surprise.

She leans over, lips running along the skin of his cock. He thrusts upward, incapable of holding himself back. She kisses his pelvis, the soft skin right next to his cock. She runs her sharp nails over his sensitive balls, touching them for the first time, and he lets out a garbled, hissing cry.

She mouths over his skin until she finds a thick spot on his upper thigh and bites down on his skin. She bites down hard, sparing him no pain. The yell comes from his gut, and he jerks wildly beneath her, his hands straining against the rope. 

She pulls the rope tighter with her mind, pulling it so tight she can hear him thinking _too tight oh god,_ in his mind.

She finally moves her mouth back to his cock and takes him in her mouth, carefully grazing her teeth along the sensitive skin.

He comes with a gasping sob in her mouth, and when he's finally finished shaking, she climbs back up his aching, pulled-taut body and kisses him with a mouth full of the taste of his own come.

"Thank you," he mumbles against her mouth, like he's forgotten that Jean can read his mind.

She playfully bites his bottom lip hard enough for the taste of iron to explode on their tongues. He hisses into the kiss.

She pulls back. "Scott," she says, smiling. "Baby, were not done. She scratches two nails down his chest, then runs her fingers softly back up the thin red lines until she can tug at the pretty red collar around his neck. "You have at least another one in you."

She can hear him panic in his head, but she can hear the undisguised hope and need bloom beside it. 

"We're not done yet," she promises.


End file.
